


Hireable Mercenaries

by GreyscaleSky



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, there will be a lot of references, you'll have to memorise their names sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13302591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyscaleSky/pseuds/GreyscaleSky
Summary: An Elder Scrolls/Team Fortress 2 crossover fic set after the main quest and the DLCs.





	Hireable Mercenaries

**Author's Note:**

> Scout - Jorcis the Swift  
> Soldier - Jolje the Burly  
> Pyro - Ja'fir  
> Demoman - Theradal Phinlen Ghardti  
> Heavy - Murarkal Orollg  
> Engineer - Drenald Heart-Anvil  
> Medic - Erraerion Larethfhar  
> Sniper - Malriath  
> Spy - Malaresa Rerto

"Aw shit... shit... fuckin' shit!" A Nord runs through the dense forest of Falkreath clutching his pack tightly against his chest, he's dressed in nothing but rags and his face is bruised and bloody with cuts, as soon as he reaches the open gates he rushes towards the Dead Man's drink and slams open the door, startling everyone inside.  
"Malriath!" He calls, and the Bosmer raises his head from where he'd been laying like a drunken lout and pricked his ears.  
"Jorcis? What happened to you mate?" His accent is thick and slurred from the ale he's holding in his hand and Jorcis stomps over, pulling the drunken elf up and onto his unsteady feet.  
"Mal, I really need your help right now buddy! I need you and your dumb horse!"  
"Don't you disrespect my 'orse and then ask for a ride." He grumbles and folds his arms.  
"Alright, I'm sorry, but please help me get back ta Whiterun!" He begs and Malriath finally gives in and pulls the little Nord out of the inn and to where he'd tied up his horse, the mare liked Jorcis enough to nuzzle against him and didn't buck him off when he hopped up behind Malriath, his hands went to hold the Bosmer's waist tightly, and he constantly looked behind him as they rode towards Whiterun, whatever Jorcis was running from, it had spooked him, Malriath thought.  
Once they'd made it to Whiterun and Jorcis was safe from whatever had scared him in the first place Mal stopped him before he could run back into the comfort of the city walls.  
"What in the name of Hircine scared you back there, Jorcis?" The little Nord shrunk down and paled, looking around him quickly to make sure nobody was listening in on their conversation.  
"Okay, I was coming back from this little cave, right? I'd skinned some wolves and I was coming back along the road when I heard these weird rustling sounds, I thought it was another wolf so I followed the noise and I saw the _Dark Brotherhood_!" He squeaked as he said the name, and Malriath shuddered at the thought, most people who saw the shady organisation didn't make it out alive, and if it had been him he definitely wouldn't have.  
"Seriously? What were they doing?"  
"There were two of 'em, and they were dragging a body into the river when they saw me, I-I just ran as fast as I could. Think I dropped my lucky dagger too." He sighed mournfully at the loss, it had been a gift from one of his brothers before he'd moved out to Daggerfall to marry his love.  
"You bettah tell the guards that, make sure they don't come aftah you." Malriath warned gravely, looking over as a patrol of yellow draped guards passed them by, Jorcis nodded and retreated up the hill to his walled home, Malriath lingered before riding off just to make sure the kid got to the gates and then left back to Falkreath on the road, enjoying the silence of the night but also keeping one hand on his dagger, just in case he ran into anyone who preferred the night.

Jolje was slurring his words at Candlehearth Hall again, slumped over the bar and recounting some fearsome battles to the disinterested barmaid as she moved quickly up and down the stairs to serve the patrons, the door slammed open suddenly and the harsh, cold wind began to nip at his uncovered hands as he attempted to move away from the door. It slammed shut as another mercenary stepped into the bar and sat himself down beside Jolje and ordered himself up an ale, he was a funny guy, a Redguard, certainly, but he sounded like a Breton, one of those ones further up north with the thicker accents, the Redguard looked up and Jolje noticed that his right eye was milky white, but there was no scar running over it like he'd usually seen.  
"Ay, you wouldn't happen t' have heard of any ghost stories recently?" That was an odd question, only children liked ghost stories, the Redguard continued.  
"Me name is Theradal, I hunt fer ghosts."  
"Ha, tell me another one!" Jolje laughed and the Redguard rolled his eye.  
"Really, I am. Heard of a ghost sighting in Ivarstead that left the locals all spooked." He said, pausing to take a sip of ale every once in a while. "Ghost sighting's been happenin' a lot recently, I blame this bloody war." Jolje nodded and looked down at his tankard.  
"You...uh... need any help?" Theradal raised his eyebrow at him. "For the ghost. Could be dangerous." The Redguard laughed and gave him a harsh smack to his back. "Yeah, yeah I could. I'd pay you and everything with the money I'm getting paid, it'd be good to have someone watchin' me back, we'll head out tomorrow!" Jojle grinned, his hands already tingling at the thought of being able to fight again.

The Chill was cold, very, very cold, and the Altmer was all alone after his cellmate had picked the lock and found himself being crushed to death by the angry atronachs that worked as the guards of the prison.  
Erraerion groaned to himself, cursing his short temper for getting him sent to jail over a stupid Nord and his pathetic insults, but he was nothing if prideful of his appearance and talents, and the ugly troll had taken it just a little too far, he'd only done what was fair and drained his body of blood! The Nords were just too racist. So now here he was, in the most miserable place in Skyrim, lamenting how close he'd been to the College and waiting for the real guards to come back, he had a fury spell with their names on it.

"Drenald, I'm tired!" That pathetic little mewl was beginning to really tug on the Breton's heartstrings as his companion dragged his feet (and his pack) throughout the Dwemer workshops, but he trudged on, searching for more parts or plans or anything relating to the races history.  
"Just a lil' bit more, 'Fir." He promised, skimming through one of his many books, this one was Chimarvamidium. Ja'Fir whined again.  
"This place is huge!" He groaned and ran to catch up with the other man, Drenald took more scrap metal from a table and was just able to fit the long golden part into his pack.  
"Okay, okay, I think that'll do for now." The Khajiit's ears pricked and his tail began to wag joyfully.  
"Really? All done?" The Breton nodded his head and moved to pet his buddy between the ears, if anyone else had done that they'd be dead and smouldering on the floor, but Drenald was special. They had to walk back to Markarth because they hadn't been able to replace the last horse after it had been swallowed whole by that dragon near Karthwasten, but at least it had given Ja'fir some time to get his uniform back on and his face and tail hidden.  
The guards still weren't allowing Khajiit into the city, which wasn't anything particularly new for Ja'fir, he even waved to the caravan outside as he followed Drenald in, with one hand carrying his pack and the other holding the Breton's hand.  
"One drink before we go home?" He looked over at the Silver Blood Inn and waved as Cosnach passed by on his way in, Ja'fir nodded once, shaking a bag of gold and laughing behind the mask.

Murarkal was sat at his table in the corner with a blank letter in his hands, still deciding what he would write for his mother and sisters, he looked around the Silver Blood Inn with little emotion, watching drunken Nords get into scuffles and be kicked out by Kleppr, every once in a while the owner would look over at him and he would stand up with a threatening glare, the Orc towered over even an Atmoran if they were still around (Well, one was, but he was all the way in Solitude) and had no problems with a fight if it was needed.  
He tapped his quill thoughtfully against the corner of his paper and began with a simple 'dear family, I am fine.' He nodded satisfied.  
'I am earning many gold, people like me as bodyguard. I will come back soon with money and food for you. Love Murarkal.' He ended it kindly with a small drawing of a lavender flower and neatly folded the letter before writing all of their names on it, Ushz, his mother, and his three sisters Bashash, Yathoth and Shadzush. He'd give the letter to the courier when he came tomorrow.  
"You, Orc. What's your name?" An Imperial man was standing in front of him, kitted in leather armour. Murarkal packed his things and stood up, holding his hand out for a handshake. "I am Murarkal. You need mercenary?" The small man nodded, looking him up and down.  
"Are you any good in a fight against a giant?" Suddenly the entire bar was laughing behind the Imperial, and he turned to look at them all with confusion.  
"Boy, are you kidding? Murarkal could take down a damn mammoth!" Drenald was waving at him, and Murarkal sheepishly laughed. "You give me too much credit my friend."  
"Trrst us! Mrrkl is thr brrrst!" Ja'fir popped up from where he'd been sat at the fire.  
The Imperial turned back to Murarkal.  
"Alright, get ready by seven tomorrow. We're going after one." He nodded and retreated towards his room, more money meant more towards his goal of owning that plot of land he'd been wanting.

"Holy fucking shit!" Malaresa almost snapped his neck at the speed he turned towards the noise, there was a small Nord just staring with an open mouth at the duo, when Ohkam turned and hissed the boy rushed off deeper into the trees and was gone. "You idiot!" Malaresa slapped the Argonian at the back of his covered head before kicking the corpse into the river.  
"You could have kept watch, stupid Dunmer." He growled and began to drag the elf behind him.  
"I didn't know anyone was out here." He looked behind him for the boy but couldn't see anything with how dark it was, even a candlelight spell wouldn't help, the most the pair could do now was get back to Dawnstar and keep their family out of Falkreath for a while until the people stopped worrying about the Brotherhood.  
"Listener won't be pleased." The Argonian still managed to look smug and Malaresa was in no mood to deal with the bastard. "Just because you're her little pet doesn't mean you won't get punished for fucking up the contract." He moved to light up a tightly wrapped moonsugar cigarette and light it with a quick flick of his fingers, the smell was godawful but the high it gave people was better than Skooma could ever be, it was a shame that only the Khajiit knew the true properties of the illegal substance.  
Usually the assassins were prepared to spend nights in Inns rather than just travel from one end of Skyrim to the other, but now that the guards were going to be on high alert for the shadowy group Malaresa knew it was better to risk getting tired and missing out on a contract than risk being executed, luckily they had Shadowmere and the horse was fast. They made it back to the outskirts of Dawnstar and into the secret entrance with none the wiser, and once he'd gotten paid by the greying Redguard and greeted by the young vampire and the Imperial one he retreated to his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Please love me this took a lot of planning.


End file.
